


Something There

by trekkiepirate



Series: Geraskier Disney Fluff [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: M/M, There will be more of this, for which i blame Mags entirely, so fluffy you can sleep on it, so sweet you will need insulin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekkiepirate/pseuds/trekkiepirate
Summary: The first is a series of Geralt/Jaskier fics set to Disney songs."There’s something underlying Geralt’s words; something that wasn’t there before."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Disney Fluff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734649
Comments: 19
Kudos: 76





	Something There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruffboi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffboi/gifts).



> Welp, listen to a bunch of Disney songs while fresh into a new fandom/ship and this is what happens apparently.
> 
> My first foray into The Witcher and I only know the show (looking forward to library reopening so I can get the books!), so forgive me if this isn't the best.

There’s something… Jaskier hesitates to use the word sweet but it feels apt, and almost kind in Geralt’s face these days.

Well Geralt, for all his gruffness, had always been kind. But since finding Cirilla, the Witcher has undoubtedly softened.

Not that Jaskier will ever, ever speak those words within Geralt’s hearing; he likes his limbs attached to his body, thank you very much indeed.

But Jaskier has noticed the difference in the Witcher since he began to travel with him and Ciri.

First of all, Geralt had sought Jaskier out and apologized. Actually apologized. Said the words, “I’m sorry” out loud. Jaskier had nearly cried. Or laughed. Or kissed Geralt until neither of them could breathe.

Jaskier nearly did any number of embarrassing things.

Luckily, Ciri was too busy looking smug and clapping her hands to notice how Jaskier nearly climbed her adoptive father like a tree.

Hopefully it had also escaped Geralt’s attention.

Geralt’s manners certainly took a turn for the better. He rarely used soup bowls as cups anymore, actually eating with a proper spoon and all. He cursed less, though when he did, it was a whole new vocabulary of strung together swears.

It was hilarious watching him insist Ciri never repeat the words after a tirade.

The biggest difference, Jaskier noticed, is how Geralt has begun to treat him.

Geralt says the word ‘friend’ when referring to Jaskier frequently now. He lets Jaskier season their food and doesn’t complain (much) when Jaskier sings.

Jaskier will swear to any god listening that he heard Geralt singing Cirilla a lullaby one night. He will take the memory of that bass voice crooning Jaskier’s own words to his grave as his favorite secret.

It’s certainly sweeter than the ‘I’ve been in love with Geralt since I was 19’ secret that Jaskier keeps close to his chest. He’s relatively certain Yennefer knows anyway. Ciri definitely knows, if the way she introduces them as her fathers like they are an established couple is any indication.

They had to dissuade her of that habit. Not all corners of the Continent were kind to that sort of thing.

And the lie of it broke Jaskier’s heart a little more every time.

He writes a song about the White Wolf and a forest nymph to explain the child’s sudden presence at the Witcher’s side. Best everyone believes Geralt fathered her through a magic coupling, to keep suspicion at bay.

Geralt has also begun to touch Jaskier more frequently.

It is the best and the worst of the new changes in Geralt.

A hand on his back to steer him through a crowd, an arm around his shoulders as they all sit around the fire at night, patting his head when he sneaks Roach a treat.

And once, just once, those strong, gorgeous hands cupped Jaskier’s face as Geralt roused the bard back to consciousness after he’d been thrown into a tree by a rather irate kikimora.

Jaskier took this as permission to ramp up his own touching of the Witcher. Massaging oils into bruised skin, brushing Geralt’s hair once Jaskier finished brushing Ciri’s, sitting close at tavern tables to feel the warmth of Geralt’s thigh against his own.

He knows they are just friends, companions. But Jaskier can’t help the stab of hope in his heart when Geralt looks at him in a way he’s never been looked at before.

Spring turns to summer, then to fall and Jaskier is almost saddened by the approach of winter. He knows that Geralt and Ciri will turn North to Kaer Morhen and he will go West to Oxenfurt for another season of lessons and pupils and not being in mortal danger at the side of the best man that Jaskier has ever known.

It will especially hurt this year, after months of finally feeling like Geralt enjoys having him around. He’ll miss Cirilla too. Jaskier never had any children (a very large supply of a pennyroyal and sage potion after post-coital tumbles with ladies has served him well in that regard) but he has loved being around the girl: watching her grow and learn and bicker with her father.

It’s new and a bit alarming when Geralt steals Jaskier’s quill from his hand while he writes his annual letter to Oxenfurt, informing them of his imminent return so they can get his professor rooms ready.

“I…” Geralt holds the pen far from Jaskier, as if the bard weren’t too startled to attempt to recover it. “I would like it if you came to Kaer Morhen with us for the winter. If you want.”

Jaskier wants. Jaskier wants so bad he almost cannot speak of how badly he wants what he thought could never be.

Almost.

“YES!”

Geralt startles back and several birds vacate nearby trees, so Jaskier knows he said that a little too loudly.

Jaskier looked down at the half-finished letter and made grabby hands towards the quill. “Well, give that back so I can tell them I’m not coming after all.”

A small smile graces Geralt’s face, one that Jaskier knows belongs to him alone. A smile of fond exasperation. It’s tinged with something new this time and Jaskier would likely spend the better portion of the rest of his life trying to decipher it if Crilla had not returned at that exact moment, dropped her armload of firewood and sighed, “Oh just tell him how you feel, please!”

Jaskier is terrified she means him and is preparing to deliver all manner of denials, jests, and whatever distraction he can summon, up to and including running away when he notices she’s staring at Geralt, not him.

Geralt who seems unsure for possibly the first time in Jaskier’s memory. It’s a dear look on him, the way he glances from Ciri to Jaskier and back again a few times.

“Tell him or I will,” she says, her head tipped high, looking every inch the princess she is.

“Tell me what?” Jaskier asks.

“I…” Geralt hesitates again. “I… like having you around. I want it to continue.”

Jaskier blinks. Unexpected, but nice to hear. He’s about to return the sentiment when Geralt continues in a rush.

“I like when you make Ciri laugh and how you take care of her… and me. I like knowing you’ll be there in the morning when I wake up. I like how you sing; I take back the pie comment, I take it back. I like how your trousers fits you so well.”

Jaskier decides to store that particular comment away to be obsessed over when he is less confused. There’s something underlying Geralt’s words; something that wasn’t there before.

“I like your warmth, like having you next to me, close to me. I like-“

“We decided that wasn’t the right word. Say the right word,” Ciri insists, looking like she may very well come over and punch Geralt.

“I,” Geralt runs a hand through his hair. “I… love you. Jaskier. I find myself very unexpectedly in love with you.”

Jaskier stares and stares and stares some more. He stares for so long Geralt looks about as panicked as Jaskier had felt when Ciri first spoke. His mouth works, but for the first time in his 42 years he cannot find the words. His unrequited love for Geralt is so all-encompassing that he has long since accepted it as a fact of his life. The sun rises, the sun sets, Jaskier loves Geralt of Rivia with every fiber of his being.

Geralt has taken the leap with words, something Jaskier knows is hard for him, so he reaches out and grabs Geralt’s shirt, pulling him into a kiss.

Cirilla is cheering, Roach is snorting as if to say ‘Finally’ and Jaskier is kissing Geralt, who kisses him back.

They pull back because they’re aware the girl is still watching, but Geralt smiles his new Jaskier smile and there’s the word that describes the new colour in the gesture.

Love.


End file.
